21 Guns
by HockeyGirl35
Summary: First time I've done a song-fic so honestly, it might suck. I don't own anything in the story!


Miles, Rachel, Charlie, and Aaron were all sat at a table in the local bar/restaurant located in the small town they decided to settle in. It was a nice place, not the best security around it but it had good people and the small group enjoyed feeling normal for a change. This night, for example, they decided to go out to dinner to celebrate going three months since the bombs fell without anything tragic or just plain weird happening to them. What none of them realized, however, was that was about to go down the toilet. A traveling carnival of sorts had just pulled into town and the inhabitants were also grabbing a bite at the same bar, seeing as how it was the only eatery in town. This included a man going by the name Jimmy King, a man who formerly resided in Philadelphia as President of the Monroe Republic.

Monroe had no idea Miles or his family lived in this little town. The last time he'd seen the man he used to (and still desperately wanted to) call his brother was at the Tower right before the bombs fell. He'd been held captive by Neville and Miles had saved his life. Unfortunately, the whole thing had seemed so unreal to Bass that he'd only been able to get one word out before he once again began running for his life. There was so much he had wanted to say, still wanted to say to Miles...if he could ever find him. Bass didn't much associate with his fellow carnies and as a result, they were constantly messing with him, never suspecting who he really was. Hell, even if they'd known, these people probably wouldn't have cared. Anyway, this particular bar featured a band that was offering live karaoke to anyone that wanted to come up and sing, minus the microphone, of course. Instantly the carnies latched onto this as yet another way to annoy the "new guy" and kept pestering Bass until he finally stood up and made his way to the stage, if only to make them shut up. It's not that he had a bad voice or hated getting up in front of the crowd. No, Miles and him actually frequented karaoke bars when they'd been stationed in California all those years ago. But that was in the past. His life was crap now, he had no home, no family...definitely nothing to sing about. He sighed as he finally stepped on stage and gave the band his name and song request. Better just get this over with. Luckily, the band knew the song he wanted and after his name was announced to the rest of the bar, the familiar strums of "21 Guns" by Green Day filled the room.

Miles hadn't been paying much attention to the band or the people who enthusiastically belted out lyrics from the stage. The next name called barely entered his consciousness, same with the tune. Pleasant enough but he didn't even glance up. That is, until he heard the voice accompanying the song.

Bass cleared his throat and when the music started, he began singing, voice a little rougher than usual since he really didn't use it much anymore, "Do you know what's worth fighting for?"

(Miles and their friendship, which is why Bass followed him into the Marines, into the Militia..."

"When it's not worth dying for?"

(The Republic after Miles left. Bass didn't care about the Republic, never did. He only cared because Miles seemed to care and he would back his brother up in anything.)

"Does it take your breath away and you feel yourself suffocating?"

(He'd been feeling like that since he woke up that fateful night to Miles' gun to his head.)

Miles nearly choked on his drink when he heard the voice on stage. No, he thought to himself, there's no freakin' way. Ignoring Charlie and Rachel's concern, Miles turned in his chair to catch a glimpse of the singer. His heart nearly stopped. He would know his best friend anywhere, despite Bass obviously getting a hair cut. The curls were gone, replaced by a high-and-tight Miles hadn't seen since their last official deployment before the blackout. He was also much thinner and ragged looking than Miles remembered but it was definitely Sebastian Monroe on that stage. He took a quick glance at his companions but aside from the strange looks they were giving him, he could tell they hadn't recognized the man. Miles wasn't surprised; if he hadn't grown up with Bass and spent nearly all his life with him, he wouldn't have recognized him either.

As if Miles had stood up and announced his presence, Bass's eyes were drawn to the back of the room. In a moment, he locked eyes with Miles and faltered a second, completely surprised and caught off-guard. What the hell was he supposed to do? He thought about booking it; but to where? The town gates were closed for the night. And if he just left, that would raise questions. Questions that his survival depended on him not having to answer. A beat late but able to correct himself, Bass picked up the song again, still wearily looking at Miles, "Does the pain weigh out the pride?"

(The pride had left Bass even before Miles did; he knew the things the Republic was doing was wrong but he just couldn't _stop_...)

"And you look for a place to hide."

("How ironic" was all Bass could think about that)

"Did someone break your heart inside? You're in ruins..."

It was actually rather appropriate, Bass thought as he waited for the chorus, that this is the song he should be singing in front of (or was it to, now?) Miles. Described what happened to him and them perfectly... "One, twenty-one guns. Lay down your arms, give up the fight."

(He'd tried that. Miles had told him they weren't family and apologized for not killing him sooner. So...bad advice.)

"One, twenty-one guns. Throw up your arms into the sky. You and I..." Bass almost choked up but forced himself to stay calm, still looking into Miles' eyes, hoping to see...what? He didn't know but he was sure he wasn't gonna find it.

Miles was surprised no one had noticed the fact that he hadn't broken eye contact with Bass at all since he first saw him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. Miles could plainly see the pain showing in those blue eyes and it killed him. He didn't realize how much he actually missed his brother until now.

"When you're at the end of the road..."

(Well, Bass figured, that would be now. Miles was finally going to kill him. But in a way...that would be a relief.")

"And you've lost all sense of control..."

(Bass had to suppress the hysterical laugh that threatened him at that part because, really, did he have an control over _anything_ anymore?)

"And your thoughts have taken their toll..."

(Bass always over-thought things since he was a child but Miles had always reined him in.)

"And your mind breaks the spirit of your soul."

(Bass would have to say that the last bit of his soul he was hanging onto shattered at Miles' words, "You mean..._nothing_ to me." That over-thinking problem had forcefully brought back all of Bass's abandonment issues the moment his brain comprehended those words spoken by his _former_ brother.)

"Your faith walks on broken glass and the hangover doesn't pass..."

(Bass had been trying to drink away this pitiful life since he joined the carnies. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked yet.)

"Nothing's ever built to last; you're in ruins..."

(He always lost everything. That was just the way his life worked. His parents, his sisters, Miles, the Republic..."

Miles felt his heart breaking as he listened. He knew as well as Bass did that those words weren't just being sang, they were being _spoken_ to him. Concern flashed through him as the pain in Bass's eyes was replaced with something worse; something that Miles couldn't name but that clearly said Bass had given up hope. It was the same look Miles had seen when Bass was sitting at his family's grave sites with alcohol and a gun.

"One. Twenty-one guns. Lay down your arms. Give up the fight. One. Twenty-one guns. Throw up your arms into the sky. You and I..."

Bass could see Miles' family sitting with him, quietly talking with smiles on their faces. That's when it hit Bass just how alone he really was. He had...nobody. Last time he said that, Miles had answered, "Well...you got me." Not anymore. And Bass knew. He wasn't going to last another night. This song wasn't just a song; it was his speech to Miles, his apology,...his goodbye.

Bass forced himself to continue, although now there was a noticeable difference in his voice, slightly more wavering and rougher than it was at the beginning "Did you try to live on your own?"

(He'd tried. Every day. Hated it more every day.)

"When you burned down the house and home?"

(It was all his fault. Miles had as much as confirmed that back at the Tower when he'd finally told Bass why he attempted to assassinate him.)

"Did you stand too close to the fire like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?"

(Forgiveness...Bass had been unsuccessfully searching for that longer than he cared to contemplate.)

"When it's time to live and let die...and you can't get another try..."

Unshed tears were bright in Bass's eyes. He didn't know exactly when he'd run out of chances with Miles but it was clear he had. Especially now that Miles didn't need Bass; he had his own family and his own life. A good one, it seemed, which Bass was thankful for. He still loved Miles like a brother, despite it all. At least one of them would make it.

"Something inside this heart has died, you're in ruins..."

Miles now knew without a doubt that this wasn't Monroe, President of the Republic. This was Bass, his best friend. His brother. The one Miles thought had been lost for good, replaced by the monster he'd created. Miles wanted to grab him, hug him, and never let go but he knew he had to handle this carefully or Bass would end up in front of a firing squad. He realized that his companions had gone quiet and schooled his face into a more neutral expression, knowing they were watching him.

Every moment Bass spent on stage, seeing his best friend so close but completely unreachable was killing him. "One. Twenty-one guns. Lay down your arms. Give up the fight. One. Twenty-one guns. Throw up your arms into the sky. One. Twenty-one guns. Lay down your arms. Give up the fight. One. Twenty-one guns. Throw up your arms into the sky. You and I..." Without a word to anyone, Bass turned and almost sprinted off stage. He started towards the front door but stopped abruptly when he realized that he would have to walk right past Miles to get there. He hadn't noticed on the way in because Miles hadn't been there yet. Of course he would sit at that table. Bass suppressed a groan and started walking towards the door again. Well, he figured, since he didn't have any ammo for his gun, his plan was to do something that would force the town guards to kill him. Why not just let Miles do it instead? Same outcome either way, although he would bet the guards would be less painful. He'd made it even with Miles' chair by this time, head down, when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He sucked in a breath and turned, looking up to see Miles with an unreadable expression on his face. When he looked up, the others finally recognized him and collectively gasped.

Miles quickly turned his head to glare at them, hand still closed around Monroe's wrist, silencing them with a look although Charlie looked murderous. He glanced around the room. Thankfully, they were at the very back and everyone was watching the next singer. No attention was being paid to them. Miles finally looked back at Bass, noting the resigned look in his eyes. To the surprise of everyone in the group, Miles pulled Bass into his chest, wrapping him in a tight hug.

Bass's breath was nearly knocked out of him when Miles hugged him. He just stood there tensely for a moment, not really sure what was happening. Why wasn't Miles killing him? He hesitantly embraced Miles back, tightening his grip when Miles didn't let him go.

The group at the table had gone completely silent. All three had their mouths hanging open at the scene before them, Miles' strange behavior during the song making more sense now.

Monroe buried his head into Miles' neck, his grip on the back of Miles' sweatshirt becoming desperate, not able to stop the tears leaking from behind his eyelids or his ragged breathing because, honestly, he was just so tired of it all; the running, the fighting, the pain and uncertainty. He was just so _tired_.

Miles moved one of his hands to Bass's head, bringing him even closer as he spoke softly, "It's okay, Pal. I got you. You're gonna be okay..." Miles had heard the finality in the song and it had scared the living hell out out of him.

A choked sob erupted from Bass at the words and Miles knew they'd better leave before they attracted any unwanted attention. A quick scan of the room told him that the odd looking people Bass had been seated with were beginning to search for him. Miles looked down at Bass again, eyes softening as he whispered, "We gotta go, Bass. C'mon, let's get out of here." Bass stepped back from Miles but Miles kept an arm over his shoulder, making sure Bass stayed right next to them as they walked outside. Charlie, Rachel, and Aaron all followed silently, still not sure what to say. Well, Charlie had an idea but a stern look from her mother kept her silent. Rachel was sure this was some sort of plot to capture Monroe. Aaron just didn't want to have anything to do with any of it.

They reached their house and Miles steered Bass over to the couch, sitting down next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Aaron had gone back to his room but Charlie and Rachel glanced at each other before Charlie asked, "So, which room are we turning into the cell?"

Miles felt Bass jolt when he heard those words as Rachel replied, "Probably the hall closet. It's small but it can't be opened from the inside..."

Miles looked over at Bass in time to see the betrayal in his blue eyes. Miles shook his head and nudged him gently as he said, "He's not a prisoner." He felt Bass relax in relief even as Charlie and Rachel turned surprised gazes on him.

"Miles...What're you talking about? He's dangerous!" Rachel stated.

"No, he's not," Miles replied. At the glare he received from Bass, Miles corrected himself with a small smile, "At least, he's not dangerous to us." He couldn't help but chuckle at the satisfied smirk on Bass's face.

Charlie scoffed, "And how do you know that? You haven't talked to him in years!"

Miles hesitated long enough for the two women to know something was wrong.

"Did...you haven't talked to him, right?" Rachel asked evenly.

Miles and Bass exchanged a glance and Miles said quietly, "We talked back at the Tower."

Charlie just stared at him, "But that's where he escaped..."

Miles met her gaze squarely, "Yeah, I untied him."

Neither woman could believe what they were hearing. "_What were you thinking?_" Rachel asked him, teeth clenched.

Miles paused, what had he been thinking? He felt all eyes on him as he replied quietly, "I was thinking that I couldn't leave my brother to die in that hell hole. I was thinking that I was doing what was best for everyone when I forced him to run." He turned his gaze to Bass and met his eyes as he continued, "And I've been regretting that decision ever since."

At that, Bass once again remembered Miles' words to him in Philly. I'm sorry I didn't kill you when I had the chance, he'd said. Still assuming that because this was going so _right_ it had to be wrong, Bass finally spoke up. "Should've just let Neville kill me, huh?" he asked bitterly.

Miles' eyes widened in surprise, "What? No. I mean I should have taken you with us." At the disbelieving stare he got from his friend, Miles said firmly, "Remember what I told you. We're still brothers. That's never gonna change." He glanced over at Rachel and Charlie, "And if either of you have a problem with that, well, I don't give a crap."

Huffing and cursing at them, the two women finally left the room. Miles and Bass looked at each other. Bass asked him, "So...are we okay?"

Miles smiled and nodded, "Yeah, bro. We're okay. Or...we will be."

Bass smiled back at him, sinking into the couch, completely exhausted. He closed his eyes and a moment later felt a warm weight settle against his side. Blinking, he glanced over to see Miles leaning against him, head laying against his shoulder. Bass smiled to himself, genuinely happy for the first time in over 10 years.

Miles settled comfortably against his brother's shoulder on the couch. He was about to doze off when Bass's voice broke through, "Hey, Miles?"

"Mm?" Miles answered, eyes still shut.

There was a pause in which the only sound Miles could hear was Bass's breathing, then, "Why are you doing this for me? You don't need me, you've got Rachel and Charlie..."

Miles chuckled softly, quoting back to Bass the words he'd said all those months ago in Philly, "Because we're family. We look out for each other. That's what we do. Even when one of us screws up."

Bass grinned, "...Okay."

Miles closed his eyes again, not having moved from his position against Bass, "Okay?"

Bass laughed, "That's all I needed to know."

Miles couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips as he said, "Then I'm going to sleep." A pause and Miles just _knew _Bass was going to-

"You know, you screwed up first."

Miles laughed because it was just so typical _Bass_ to still sound like a petulant child, despite everything that had happened, "Go to sleep, smart-ass."


End file.
